Fall Leafs
by Koichama
Summary: Leaves fall to the ground; an old ninja comes to terms with his own death while Fay learns to accept life without Kurogane. Life and Death cycle continuously. They cannot accept one without accepting the other. Kurofay,  Tomokurofay/Tomofay-friendship


The following note is just a small piece of self-reflection. You may skip this part and still be able to enjoy the fic in its entirety.

Note: I just wanted to write a story where the characters are not desirable because they are young and able-bodied but desired for the individuals that they are, desired for the difficult decisions they must make and the brutal hurdles. Again, I feel like I am trying to tie a few more themes into the story that I originally did not intend.

The irony of this story is that after I wrote the first draft, my Grandfather went through surgery, after which he had a heart attack – this was right after I visited him, gave him a card, and hugged him goodbye. Fortunately, he made it through his fourth heart attack. Not many can claim that. He had always been one of the greatest positive influences in my life, so I am so glad he made it through, yet again. I debated with posting this fic, wondering if readers could relate to the subject matter (being that most fanfiction readers are not old), but when I can read my own fic and remind myself of the person I almost loss, I allow myself to believe that readers can relate.

Warnings: Character death, metaphysical dribble, minor cussing, characters not being pretty, angst.

oOo

Of all the things Fay imagined he would be, a widower was not among them. What seemed like a lifetime ago, he did not even see a future for him. He was young and foolish, only 84 - well not so young - and believed there was nothing more to life than regret. However, he was a significantly wiser man at 165 and a lot more grayer. What he lost in vitality, he gained in serenity and purpose. But the man who gave him that purpose, his grumpy knight in rough armor, was dying.

For almost a century, he had the honor of serving under a benevolent princess and alongside of a virtuous warrior. If his heart broke now, it would surely be from being so full of love and compassion for them. Kurogane, the stubborn old goat, had to complicate his life. He had to needle his way into a cold, broken mage's heart and make himself irreplaceable. Then he had to ask Fay to make the most difficult decision in his life - live.

In the grand scheme of things, they were both so young, endless moments together seemed like a blink of the eye when faced with the prospect of death. After all, people spent a great more deal of time not existing; being able to exist was the smallest gift imaginable in the universe. The last couple of weeks since Kurogane had been bed-ridden; Fay had to deal with that fact. He never feared death for himself. Death was nothing, and only fools feared nothing. His biggest fear was being left alone. For that was his weakness. The thought of abandonment, even mere minutes of solitude, felt like a cold claw gripping at his heart. Even as he hobbled through the empty halls, he felt the icy grip of solitude, though it could have just been the autumn air seeping through the thin walls.

The old mage stopped in front of their room, wheezing slightly. Damn that small bit of exercise, but still, for a 165-year-old man he was energetic. Sliding the delicate, wood-framed door, he smiled. "Kurogane, I'm back." Years ago, Fay had abandoned those cute names, only resorting to them when he was feeling particularly playful. Kurogane admitted that he enjoyed hearing his full name spoken with such affection, so he spoke his name whenever he had the chance.

"What took you so long?" His thin body rested on the futon mattress. His chest rose and fell with each labored breath, steady for now, like the rhythmic bamboo fountain just outside their window. By his side, discarded and useless, laid his mechanical arm, something he did not need. He had told Fay he wanted to die a whole man with no artificial attachments, no weapons, nothing to weigh his soul.

Fay pulled from the depths of his long sleeves, an orange. "Ta-da," he cheered as if he was performing a magic trick. Kurogane huffed as Fay flicked a knife out of his sleeve as well. His bony knuckles, like withered branches, twirled the knife with the finesse of a man half his age.

"You're going to cut yourself," the old ninja reprimanded while pushing his upper body up. He grimaced, and his bones creaked like a rusted hinge.

"Please don't," asked the other man. He walked to his husband's side and kneeled to his knees. His eyes, over the years, have become hazy but still piercing. Hopefully, a little gentle coercing would sway the ninja to lie back down. He did not need to get up on account of Fay's stupidity.

The truth was, if Kurogane really wanted to sit up, he would do everything in his power to aid him. If Kurogane needed someone to shield him, he would become that shield, as he knew the ninja would do the same. However, they were neither each other's master. Fay could only shield him from pain for so long. Like everything that lived and participated in the grand scheme of life, Kurogane had to face death alone. Nothing Fay did could change the inevitable.

The stubborn man laid his head down, his wolfish gray hair crowning his face. The mage took a moment to appreciate how wonderful his existence really was, everything from his knobby toes to his creased forehead. Sometimes he still saw him as the tall pillar of strength, lean, firm, and unstoppable. Over the years, they have both changed, and not only physically. However, Kurogane would always remain a pillar in his life.

"Why do you always take so long at the market?" he croaked out while his red eyes watched Fay peel the orange.

"Miss me, honey?" he coed in a saccharine sweet tone.

"Yes," Kurogane simply said, and Fay dropped the knife. The resulting clatter sounded louder in the quiet room. Of all the responses he could have used – "Like I miss a bug bite" "I miss the quiet" "You wish" – Fay never heard that one. Their game was simple; Fay would make some simpering remark and Kurogane would retort with a sly grin on his face. They always smiled and took twisted amusement in the shocked responses of bystanders. In some ways, they were so much alike. Neither relied on words to express the truth. Whatever words they used, they have proved, countless times, they loved each other. It did not matter that Fay asked whether the ninja missed him or how he responded, he already knew, but to have Kurogane admit it…. He picked up the knife and resumed peeling, his hands a little shaky.

"What took so long?" he asked again.

Fay dropped the peel to the floor. He held the soft flesh of the fruit with part of the white rind still clinging to the skin like webs. The orange was such a small wonder, a bright, cheery spot on the tree that only grew once a year, and it was Kurogane's favorite fruit. "Good fruit is hard to find this time of year."

Gray eyebrows creased, wrinkling his face even more. "The vendor is giving you a hard time again. I don't know why you don't go to Tomoyo-hime about these things."

Though the hassling was considerably less since the first day Fay arrived in Nihon, the residents, especially the older ones, still viewed Fay as an outsider. They never fully trusted him. Sometimes, he had to haggle just to have fresh fruit, as the merchants habitually reserved the best of their wares for their _own kind._ "It's such a small thing, Kurogane-sama. She has a lot of Priestess stuff to do, and that's way more important," Fay said while prying the fruit pieces apart. He kept his tone neutral. Even he believed in the triviality of his day-to-day troubles, at least in comparison to Kurogane's struggle.

He huffed. "Have you asked her? She would not think it was such a small thing. Damn it Fay, when I am gone, you're going to have to rely on someone. I thought you liked the Princess."

"I do," he told him. Taking one slice, he wedged it between the man's lips. Kurogane glared at him, but he did not reject the orange. The citrus stung his cracked lips. His aged taste buds could barely differentiate between an orange and a lemon. However, the food itself brought him comfort, like it had years ago when he was a child.

After he swallowed the morsel, he asked, "Promise me you'll take care of yourself. I don't want to have to come back just to knock some sense into you."

Fay smiled, a light, warm, breezy smile, and Kurogane felt his sincerity when he replied, "I will." Taking a cloth and dipping it in the basin of water to his side, Fay used it to moisten the ninja's lips. He dabbed carefully, as if this task was the most important in the world.

The mage would give him a slice and follow quickly with a moistened cloth. For a space of time, too still to be momentous, too intimate to be mundane, he offered what little comfort he could, smiling pleasantly. Orange rays of light shone in the room, almost as bright as the mage's smile. The light, however, was sinking below the horizon, fading from this world, and Fay's expression faded, his smile seemingly melting into the image of contemplation. For Kurogane, he would remain strong, even if he was silently crumbling on the inside; counting moments they had left, basking in each moment as if they were the last rays of light.

"Where am I going?" Kurogane wondered in a broken voice.

"You're going where you're supposed to go." What other comfort could he offer? Fay never before witnessed the afterlife. He could only imagine the experience as if floating in an endless black dream, as nothing. Fay used to believe that being nothing and worrying about nothing was better than life. Things changed, though. He had a lot to lose, as did Kurogane; the hardest part was letting go. Fay had to help Kurogane sever all the strings that connected him to life, so he could be at peace. However, he feared he was making it difficult for the ninja, as he was reluctant to let go. All he wanted was a little more time, than a little more time after that. Time was a precious commodity, one that he used to take for granted. If he had only known the value of time earlier, he might have treated their time with more care. All those times when he told Kurogane to wait just one more minute…. If only he grasped those endless amounts of lost minutes, clung to them, then he would not regret what he missed.

A tear trickled down his leathery face, and Fay wiped it away without thinking about it. No one who knew the ninja when he was young could imagine him as emotional. Comparably he was an emotional man, but only compared to himself at the age of twenty. Old age habitually chipped away and rounded out personality traits. Slowly, Kurogane had become more open and sensitive and Fay had mellowed down. However, they were both the same two souls, two odd puzzle pieces that somehow fit.

"I don't know where I am going Fay. Is there even a place for me?" he said, and he gripped his hand. Kurogane held onto his hand so firmly that Fay could feel the pulsing arteries beneath the skin. They held onto each other like that for a while. The mage almost feared that Kurogane would die the moment he let go. The ninja relaxed his muscles, and they both breathed. Only the bamboo fountain moved – a continuous _donk_ that resounded in the still room.

"Kurogane," Fay broke the silence, "Wherever you go, Syaoran and Sakura are waiting for you." They shared a pained moment as wounds reopened; they never did find the children. "Also," he said while pushing his grey hair from his sweaty brow, "I expect you to wait for me."

Kurogane held his wrist, a smile finally playing across his lips, and said, "Can't get rid of you can I?"

"Never, and don't you go hanging out with dead hussies, I'll know." At least they still found the strength to chuckle.

"You say the weirdest things…" he trailed off. The light-hearted moment too, dissipated, like so many others. Again, they were surrounded by a stretch of silence that was only broke by the bamboo fountain. Songbirds occasionally tweeted, whispering to one another in soft chorus.

"Sorry," Kurogane said to Fay's surprise. He had hoped his ninja was not suffering Alzheimer's, and he was the one who had forgotten for what the ninja was apologizing. His memory, though not as sharp as it used to be, had not degraded to the point where he would forget an occasion for apology.

His husband continued, "I am scared. I never thought that I would have so much time to contemplate my death, rather assuming I would die in battle. This has to be more painful for you. I am very inconsiderate, making you console me like some baby." He grimaced at the concept, making a face that was very childlike. "The only consolation I have left is that I don't have to be the one to watch you die, though that is a very selfish thing." At those words, Fay bowed his head, the weight of shame pushing his weary body down. Tears fell freely and he did not care; his body shook despite his warm robes. He felt as if he had released a flood of tears, everything he had held in since Kurogane was diagnosed as terminally ill.

"Fay?"

"I-I am sorry Kuro-sama," he said, choking back the rest of his sobs. "For the past few weeks, I have wished that I could take your place. But I never wanted to put you through the same sort of pain I am going through now, I just never thought. I never think; old as I am, you would think I would have more wisdom, but you-you are always on top of things. I can't believe I made such a selfish wish."

"You wished to take my pain away," he consoled, "That was all that you were thinking. If you were thinking anything along the lines of 'I want Kuro-rin to watch me die and suffer for it' then I would have a bone to pick with you." Fay snorted, a sound that turned into a hiccup as he tried to sob at the same time.

"If I have a heart attack right now Kuro-_rin_, I'm blaming you. I can't believe you called yourself that, and it only took eighty years for you to use a cute nickname," he said while wiping the tears from his face.

A tapping at their door interrupted them. Fay could see a petite figure through the doorframe, the soliloquy of which was draped in long robes. "Come in Tomoyo," he called, abandoning her title.

The small priestess glided into the room. She was a vision of dignity. The years have turned her black hair pale, so that when she walked she seemed to float like a ghost. No longer was she the child princess Fay had met when he first arrived in Nihon; however, she still maintained an air of dignity and gentility that persuaded many to confide in her.

"I hope I am not interrupting," she inquired from the doorway, voice as soft as the summer wind.

"Just what would you be interrupting?" Kurogane wondered. He made a motion to sit up, but with a hand wave from Tomoyo, he obediently laid back down. Fay smirked at this behavior, even has he wiped that last evidence of his tears. Kurogane was a ninja to the very end; he was just lucky to have a caring master.

She answered, "Oh, this and that. I would not want to see anything I shouldn't. I have a reputation to maintain." Kurogane huffed at the insinuation.

"In all seriousness, Kurogane, I came to check on you. This is the most difficult…," she said but faltered. Her voice trailed off, fluttering away like a butterfly.

"I have my moments," he told her, realizing that deceit did not work on the princess. She knew the moment she stepped into the room that both men have cried. "Mostly," he continued, exhausted, "I am just bored."

Kneeling to his side, the woman picked up a few blank sheets of paper. "Did you try writing a poem like I suggested?" she asked, flipping through each identical blank piece. The first time Tomoyo suggested that Kurogane compose a poem, Fay laughed, thinking that was the appropriate response. At the time, nothing in the world seemed more hilarious than Kurogane the poet. When the priestess explained the purpose of a death poem, he no longer found it funny. Somehow, Kurogane was expected to detach himself from his own death and compose a poem that was both accepting of death and memorable; Kurogane could barely accept losing a duel.

"It might be cathartic," Tomoyo suggested, laying the sheets down. "I wouldn't expect you to write a traditional poem, just let your feelings flow free. I know they're in there." She poked at his heart as Kurogane determinedly looked at the ceiling.

"You're here for a reason aren't you?" he accused the priestess. Fay rarely heard him speak to her so bitterly. Reflexively, as if to grasp that bitter emotion and hold it at bay, Fay put his hand on his shoulder and kneaded the tense muscle.

"Unfortunately," she responded, her voice still soft but with a hint of finality. As a priestess, she possessed intuitive powers. Tomoyo first sensed Kurogane's fading health, first noticed his rebelling body. With Fay's depleting magical power, he could only grasp feebly at Kurogane's condition, but he did not envy Tomoyo and her acute sense of death.

Fay released his arm when he felt the bitterness filter from Kurogane's body, leaving a peaceful yet sorrowful man. "It's tonight isn't it?" guessed the mage. To which, she could only hang her head, letting her wispy, translucent hair shadow her face.

"It will be okay," Kurogane assured. Fay could not tell if the words were meant for him, Tomoyo, or for himself. The phrase seemed to lose all meaning, but the emotion behind the words alluded to a higher sense of reason. Everything was as it should be; as sure as the seasons changed, as sure as the leaves fell to the earth, they would continue. Accepting death was like accepting life, accepting that the world turned with or without him, accepting that the hawk would always call, whether or whether not he was there to hear; this was beyond good and bad. They would accept death, not because death was good, but because they accepted life. 'Being okay' did not mean never feeling sorrow, but that those feelings would come and pass as natural as the rain. Since birth, nature prepared them for that moment.

Again, caught by the magnificence that was existence, Fay could only stare at Kurogane and be grateful that he ever existed at all. Rhythmically, he brushed the limp hair from his sweaty brow, knowing that he was also grateful for their short existence together.

"I think I should leave," Tomoyo said sorrowfully.

"Why?" Fay asked. The priestess had every right to stay at Kurogane's side, to remain a part of his life to the very end. She gave his life direction and purpose, every bit as responsible as Fay for the creation of the man that lay before them.

"I want you here," Kurogane assured.

"I just didn't want to intrude," she said.

"Nonsense, I have two sides don't I? You're not intruding on anything," he said, his voice as gruff and as demanding as when he was twenty.

"Can't argue with that," she replied with her hand covering her forlorn smile. She rested her hand on the ninja's other shoulder, her thumbs sliding along the severed flesh where his metal arm used to fit.

Kurogane smiled, the feeling of peace washing over him like a stream, cleansing his fear. The most important people in his life where there to guide him to the other side. They would lighten his heart so he could be accepted into the next stage; strengthen his resolve so he could find absolution. Death was a journey he had to make on his own, but life was an experience to be shared with friends until the very end.

That evening, three souls watched the last rays of sun disappear from the room, listened to the last of the songbirds' song, and shared the same moment in time. One soul left the room later that night.

oOo

Two weeks had passed. The trees were stripped bare; only one or two stubborn leaves still clung to the branches, denying that winter would ever come. Silver clouds, dotted with migratory birds, filled the skies. Nature had already forgotten about Kurogane, but Fay had not. He had not cried since that night; tears were too insignificant of an expression for him. He did not want to drown his sorrow; he was too old for rain.

His thoughts travelled far beyond the horizon, contemplating his own life, wondering whether Kurogane found his place, wondering if he would be able to go to the same place. Memories always surfaced, as often as the sun peeked through the clouds. Kurogane was a constant presence in his mind, as were Sakura, Syaoran, Tsubasa (both of them), Mokona, Ashura, Fay, Yuuko. He wondered where they were as well.

He sat on the patio, his posture as still as a Buddha statue. He held his ghastly pale hands against white robes. His hair fell over his shoulders like tangled pieces of white thread. He was weathered and diminished; eyes were duller and reflexes were slower. Over a century of life had left its mark on the mage.

"How are you today?" A soft voice interrupted his musings.

Tomoyo walked carefully, a tray balanced in her hands. The steam from the cups twisted as it rose in the air; the smell of tea and honey wafted to Fay. "I think my day may have just gotten a little better," he commented as he watched Tomoyo glob a big dollop of honey into his cup. Tomoyo performed every action as if she had former knowledge that Fay was lonely and needed comfort.

He let the heat trail into his fingertips as he took the cup. Silence surrounded them, both enjoying each other's company, instead of lamenting his loss. Fay valued every moment spent in the company of friends, savoring them as he savored the warm, sweet taste of his tea. After all, existence was short.

"You are handling Kurogane's funeral ceremony very well," Tomoyo complimented. Fay nodded, knowing that Tomoyo appreciated the difficulty of his responsibility. The mage still had a few more months of traditional mourning and ceremony before his ninja could rest in peace. He watched Tomoyo carry this burden for her sister, and before that, Kendappa carried the burden for Sohma.

"If I had not any experience before Kurogane-sama I might not have done so well," he confessed, eyes unfocused while he took another drink.

"The cremation was difficult for you," she stated.

Fay bowed his head as he replied, "I almost felt like dragging him from the fire." Now that he thought about it, it was a childish reaction. However, as difficult as it was to watch him burn, it was more so to hold the remains of the man he loved with a pair of chopsticks; he was careful not to drop him, clumsy as he may have been. Kurogane would surely haunt him if he handled his body carelessly. "I think I might have another reason to never handle chopsticks."

Her eyes focused on the mage. She chose her words carefully when she spoke, "His soul has already departed and free from pain. The ceremony is only for the living, to help us remember. I would not think for a minute that you are doing Kurogane any disgrace. Just remember him, keep him with you, only then can his soul be at rest, and you are doing that admirably."

"Thank you, for everything Tomoyo. I understand why Kurogane-sama valued your opinion so much. You must really care for him," he said. The wind whistled through the branches while Tomoyo hesitated.

"I care for you too," she said in a voice that was warmer and sweeter than the tea Fay was drinking.

"That reminds me," Fay said as he rummaged through his robes, an unusual expression on his face, as if he was caught doing something wrong. "I found this hidden under the pillow while tidying Kurogane-sama's room. I think he meant for it to be found but was too self-conscious to give it to us." He handed her a folded piece of parchment.

With one glance she could tell immediately, "A poem?"

"_by eve's light he writes  
last of the orange leaves to fall  
he will not finish"_

Several different attempts were crossed, hastily written, and hastily removed. The poem was two lines away from finishing.

"Kurogane-sama has his own way with words," Fay said. His eyes sparkling from controlled tears. The priestess felt a lump in her throat as well.

"It was an honest attempt," she said while folding the paper with more care than her official scrolls. When she gave the paper back to Fay, she said, "I think Kurogane would have liked to finish."

"So do I," he agreed. Kurogane's last written words were slid back into his robes to be kept safe with him.

A golden leaf broke free from the tree's branches, sailed across the wind, and landed between the two friends. Both of them watched the mundane occurrence, reluctant to spoil the shared experience with pointless words of comfort. The fact that they shared the same sorrow was enough comfort.

"You must have felt it Tomoyo," Fay said. He drained his cup and smiled for her.

"I have," she confessed. "I admit that I withhold this information, thinking you had enough to worry about, though I suppose I was mistaken."

"How long before my magic wears out?" he asked. For a time, shortly after Kurogane's wake, he had felt the last of his magic fade; magic was really the only thing keeping the old body together.

"Maybe a year," Tomoyo revealed with little enthusiasm.

"It will be okay," he assured the priestess, those words holding the same special meaning as it did for Kurogane. He had to admit, he concerned himself with Tomoyo's predicament more than his own. However, he knew her strength, and he knew that she could hold the burden of many on her shoulders. The circumstances were not fair, but death was above such notions.

For almost a century Fay had enjoyed life, and he cherished every moment he shared with Kurogane. The most difficult decision he had to make was to live. However, once he made that promise to Kurogane, he never once wandered from that path. He would accept both life and death because he accepted himself. For now, that was his purpose.

oOo

Please Read This: That poem I used is a haiku, though most who are familiar with poetry would have easily surmised so. Yes, that is my haiku; if nothing else, I claim full rights to my poem, so please respect my request and do not use the poem, copy it, or claim it in anyway. I trust my readers to respect my right, though, so I am not too concerned. Oddly, I did not write Kuro's death around the poem; my old poem just fit the story. On another note, Haiku originated from the death poem, jisei. While haiku has the scheme, 6-8-6, forms that are more traditional had two additional lines.

Despite the dichotomy in the fandom between kurofay and kurotomo, I honestly believe Tomoyo and Fay would get along like two peas in a pod. I participate in the dichotomy with full knowledge of my own bias. Need more Tomoyo/Fay friendship fics where she completely takes over his wardrobe. As far as Kurogane and Fay's relationship as husbands, that is not official, as they did not have a marriage ceremony, though I can imagine Tomoyo giving Kurogane (the bride) away… We need a fic like that too.

If anyone caught on, I wrote this fic with a few references to my other fic, Green Tea and Pink Snow, but they are both independent of each other. Fay eventually grew to like Green Tea (loaded with honey, as reference to his offhand comment in GTaPS), and xenophobia persists among the more stubborn residents of Nihon.


End file.
